Moving On
by Rebecca Cage
Summary: My take on what the characters went through after the events at the end of Abyssinia, Henry. Yes, I know it's been done before, but I wanted a chance to take a crack at it. Please be nice and no flames. This is my first MASH fic. Enjoy!


Disclaimer: I don't own MASH. Wish I did, but I don't. So sue me and I'll send you back in time to the front lines of the Korean War. :-p

Thanks to my friend Mary Kleinsmith for doing the Beta work for me!

Moving On

It had been a matter of only a few hours since they had been in the O.R. working on the latest batch of wounded that had been choppered in from the front line. Only a few hours since Radar had walked in on the session with a haunted look in his eyes to deliver a message. A message that would rip the group to its core. Their former commanding officer, Colonel Henry Blake, had been killed when the plane taking him home to the United States was shot down over the Sea of Japan. It had been only a few hours, but to the personnel stationed at the 4O77th MASH in Korea, it seemed like a whole lot longer.

After they had finished operating on the last of the wounded, the surgeons and nurses walked into the changing room in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. No one could bring themselves to speak, the emotions were so raw, and talking about what had happened was simply too painful. Once they had changed out of the surgical scrubs, everyone went their separate ways to try to come to terms with the grief and sense of mourning that had settled on the camp.

"Hey, Hawk, wait up a second!"

"Oh, sorry about that, Trap. I didn't mean to take off on you like that," Hawkeye Pierce said, distracted, as he slowed his pace to allow his friend to catch up to him.

"You okay?" Trapper John McIntyre asked breathlessly as he quickened his own stride to catch the other man, falling into a slow step beside him.

"I don't know. I guess I'm just in a state of disbelief right now. I mean, just this morning we were celebrating a friend busting out of this place and now all this. It just doesn't seem real."

"We all wish it wasn't. Sometimes life really isn't fair. I need a drink so I'm gonna head back to the Swamp and give the still a workout. You wanna come?"

"Not right now. I'm gonna go do a quick check on the patients in post op and then I'll go look for Radar and make sure he's holding up okay. He's going to really need someone to talk to right now." Hawkeye sighed, shaking his head sadly.

"That's a good idea. I'll keep a glass ready for you when you get back to the Swamp later," Trapper said, patting his friend on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Trap. I'll see you later."

- - - - -

After making sure that everyone in post op was stable, Hawkeye walked quietly through the camp searching for Radar. The young company clerk had been really close to Henry Blake and would be hit the hardest by his loss. The death had affected everyone in the camp very deeply. When he had gone through post op, Frank Burns had appeared very subdued and acknowledged Hawkeye's presence with only a slight nod of his head. Hawkeye looked in the Mess Tent, the Officer's Club and Rosie's bar for Radar but wasn't surprised to find all three locations virtually empty. After searching these places for his own peace of mind, he went to the one place that he knew Radar might be.

When Hawkeye walked into Radar's office, he found his young friend sitting on his cot with his beloved teddy bear clutched to his chest and a thermometer in his trembling hands. As he approached, Radar looked up and Hawkeye could see the shimmer of unshed tears behind the young man's round glasses.

"How are you holding up, Radar?" Hawkeye asked, sitting down on the cot next to him.

"Not too good, Hawkeye. I keep wanting to think that I'm gonna wake up and this will all be a bad nightmare," Radar whispered, his voice cracking with pent-up grief.

"What are you doing with a thermometer?"

"This was Colonel Blake's. He gave it to me yesterday. Gee, Hawkeye, why did he have to die like that? It's just so unfair. He had little kids and everything back home."

"I don't know why it all happened, Radar. I wish I could undo it but no one can. I agree with you that it's unfair. All we can do is pick up and try to go on from here. That's what Henry would want us to do," Hawkeye said quietly, watching as Radar swallowed hard to try to fight back his tears.

It was then that Hawkeye placed a hand on the young man's shoulder in an attempt to offer him whatever comfort he could. That simple gesture was all it took for Radar to let down the defenses he had put up ever since he had received the message that afternoon and let his raw grief through. He put his head down and cried openly for the first time that day. Hawkeye immediately moved closer and wrapped his arms around Radar, giving his friend a release for his grief. Radar let his head fall against Hawkeye's shoulder and began sobbing, the pain in his heart pouring out like water from a broken dam. In the privacy of the small office, silence broken only by the sound of Radar's quiet sobs, Hawkeye's grief began to catch up to him as he allowed his own silent tears to fall.

About ten minutes later, Hawkeye snapped out of his haunted thoughts to notice that Radar had finally quieted and his head was sagging heavily against his chest. Shifting slightly, he realized that the young man had cried himself to sleep, no doubt exhausted from his emotional release as well as the harrowing events of the day. Hawkeye settled Radar on his cot and made sure he was resting comfortably before turning the lights off and slipping quietly out of the room.

- - - - -

After he left Radar sleeping in his bed, Hawkeye decided to take a slow walk around camp to try to clear his mind before he tried to settle in for the night. While he was walking, he got an urge just to talk to someone, anyone who happened to be awake at the late hour. Just then, he saw a light burning in Father Mulcahy's tent. Deciding to take a chance that he might be awake, Hawkeye walked over and knocked quietly on the door.

"Come in," Father Mulcahy called quietly, sitting up further in his bed as Hawkeye entered the tent and sat wearily in the nearest chair. "Good evening, Hawkeye. What can I do for you?"

"I'm sorry for coming by at this hour, but I saw your light on and thought that we could keep each other company for a while. Did I wake you, Father?" Hawkeye said, slightly embarrassed as he saw that Mulcahy was sitting on the bed, a blanket thrown lightly over him.

"Not at all, Hawkeye. Actually, I wish you had." The young chaplain's voice sounded drawn and very tired.

"What do you mean?"

"I lay down about an hour ago and normally, I would have been asleep by now, but tonight, for some reason, I'm not. I've tried everything I can think of to help myself fall asleep. I turned on some music for a while, I was reading when you knocked on the door, I even got a glass of warm milk from the Mess Tent but no matter what I try, I just can't seem to drift off."

"Well, that's understandable given all that's gone on today. I actually just left Radar not to long ago. He was holed up in his office keeping to himself."

"How is Radar holding up?"

"Not too well. He was trying to be strong, but when I went to check on him, the walls came down and he allowed himself to grieve. He's sleeping now, but only because he cried himself out. Henry's death is hitting us all pretty hard but I think it'll be hardest on Radar. He's just so devastated and heart broken that I couldn't think of anything to say to comfort him. All I could do was give him a shoulder to cry on and I even ended up crying with him."

"That's just my point, Hawkeye. Tomorrow is going to be a hard day with everyone needing my support. How am I supposed to lend an ear and provide comfort if I'm exhausted? If I'm going to be of any use at all in the coming days, I just have to get some sleep," Mulcahy groaned, massaging his forehead in frustration.

"Do you want me to give you a little help, Father?" Hawkeye asked. At Mulcahy's questioning look, he explained. "If you want, I can give you a mild sedative. Nothing too strong, just enough to relax you and help ease you to sleep. It should be enough to put you out for about six hours. That way you can get the rest you need."

"That would help. I'd really appreciate it, Hawkeye. Thank you."

"Okay. I'll run over to post op and get a sedative for you. Try to get yourself comfortable and I'll be right back," Hawkeye said, leaving the tent and heading for post op.

A few minutes later, Hawkeye came back to the tent with a syringe containing a sedative. Father Mulcahy had rested on the bed and was now propped up on one elbow with his Bible open in front of him.

"All right, Father. I'm going to give you the sedative now," Hawkeye advised as he pushed up Mulcahy's sleeve and injected the contents of the syringe into his muscle. "There you go. In about five minutes, you should start feeling yourself relax and then it'll start to make you a little drowsy. Look, I'm going to go now and let you get some sleep."

"Please Hawkeye. Stay. Just for a little while," Mulcahy said as he fought back a small yawn, already beginning to feel the effects of the sedative.

"Okay. I'll keep you company until you drift off. You know, when things like this happen, it really makes you miss the people back home, doesn't it? Also makes you realize that tomorrow is never guaranteed," Hawkeye began, talking about whatever came to mind. It wasn't long before Mulcahy began showing signs of drowsiness and fighting to keep his eyes open long enough to get what he was saying. "Just close your eyes, Father. It's all right. Instead of listening to the words I'm saying, try just concentrating on my voice. You need to give that sedative a chance to work by not fighting it. Just let yourself go."

Hawkeye continued to speak, keeping his tone soft and soothing as he relayed stories about everything from growing up in Maine to the crazy jokes that he and Trapper had pulled in Basic Training. As Mulcahy concentrated on the soft words, the chaplain's eyelids began to droop heavily with the drowsiness that was slowly pulling him under. It wasn't long at all before he let his eyes slide closed completely, not able to keep them open any longer, Hawkeye's words became faded and distant in his ears, and his head sank into the pillow as a deep sleep claimed him and he relaxed willingly into its peaceful embrace.

"I think that was the best one we pulled by far," Hawkeye finished his last recollection and stopped to collect his thoughts. It was then that he noticed that the sedative had taken effect and Mulcahy had drifted off, his breathing slow and deep. He crossed to the small cot and gently removed the man's glasses, noticing at the same time that his Bible was lying on the floor having slipped from his relaxing grasp as he had succumbed to sleep. Hawkeye bent down to pick up the Bible and placed it on the table a few feet away. Then he left quietly and headed back to the Swamp.

- - - - -

When Hawkeye arrived back at the Swamp to join Trapper in a drink from the still, he found his friend stretched out on his cot, obviously having drank himself into oblivion. The martini glass was still in his hand, resting precariously in his loose grip. It made Hawkeye smile in spite of his grief when he noticed that Trapper had left a glass for him as he promised. Before getting himself a much needed drink, he gently lifted the empty glass from Trapper's limp fingers and pulled the blanket from the foot of the cot and tucked it securely around his friend's shoulders. Then he stepped over to the still, poured himself a martini and walked over to sit on his cot.

Thirty minutes and four martinis later, Frank Burns walked into the Swamp after his duty in post op and sat wearily down on his bed, rubbing a hand through his disheveled hair.

"Hey, Frank. Want a drink?" Hawkeye offered, not really in the mood to insult the hard collar major tonight given all that they had been through.

"You're offering me a drink, Pierce? No insults or rubber snakes in my bed?" Frank asked, slightly taken aback by the other man's quiet demeanor.

"Yes, I'm offering you a drink. You look like you need one. Heaven knows I still do. Tonight isn't the time for practical jokes because I don't know about you, but I don't see anything particularly funny right now."

"True. I will have a drink. Thank you," Frank said, taking a martini glass from Hawkeye. "So where did you go after you came through post op a little while ago?"

"Oh, well, the first thing I did was go look for Radar. I hadn't seen him since I left O.R. this afternoon and I was concerned about him."

"Where did you find him?"

"He was in his office by himself. I didn't really know what to say. There's nothing I can say that would make this any easier to deal with, so I just stayed with him for a while and gave him a shoulder to cry on."

"Hmm. You sure stayed with him a long time. It was four hours ago when you were in the ward."

"No, no. I haven't been sitting with Radar the entire time. I stayed with him until he fell asleep and then I took a walk around the compound and ended up in Father Mulcahy's tent. I hadn't plan to bother anyone but I saw his light on and I just wanted to talk to someone, you know. Well, anyway, we were talking and he happened to mention that he couldn't sleep and it concerned him because he's gonna be busy the next couple of days. So I went back to post op and got a mild sedative for him to help him rest. He was out like a light when I left him and came back here." Hawkeye explained, realizing he was rambling a bit.

"Sounds like you've been busy," Frank said simply, handing his glass to Hawkeye so that he could refill it.

"Frank, can I talk to you about something?" Hawkeye began as Frank nodded, signaling him to continue. "Do you think it would be a terrible thing if we didn't sound assembly in the morning? I ask because everyone is grieving Henry's death and needs some time. Besides, don't you think getting back to a normal routine the next day would be a little disrespectful to the memory of who Henry was and how he handled things here?"

"I think you make a good point, Pierce. Actually, I had been thinking about cancelling assembly tomorrow but I never thought about the matter in the way you put it. Okay, there is no assembly in the morning."

"Thanks, Frank. I always knew that behind that hard ass exterior beats the heart of a truly good man. Anyway, I think I'm gonna lay down and try to get some rest," Hawkeye said, laying down on his bunk and closing his eyes.

- - - - -

The twilight of dawn was just beginning to twinkle in the early morning sky when Trapper slowly woke from his alcohol induced slumber. Gazing blearily around the tent, he noticed Hawkeye's cot had been slept in but now stood empty. Becoming concerned, Trapper got out of his cot, tossing the blanket aside, and stepped outside into the cool of the morning.

Pulling his jacket tighter around himself, Trapper stood in the quiet compound for a moment, pondering on how dramatically things had changed in less than 24 hours. It still seemed so surreal that the previous evening they had been celebrating at the officer's club and now, the entire camp was in a deep state of grief and mourning.

Just then, Trapper looked up and found himself standing outside the doors to the officer's club without remembering having walked there. As he pushed his way inside, he heard the unmistakable sound of someone vomiting. Walking around to the far side of the bar, he found Hawkeye kneeling there, hanging on to the edge for support as he emptied his stomach contents onto the floor. Trapper walked over quietly and placed an arm around Hawkeye's shoulder to hold him up.

"You all right, Hawk?" Trapper asked.

"No, not really. I thought I was but I guess not. I came in here because it's empty and quiet at this time of morning but when I did, all I could think about was the last evening we spent in here with Henry. Damn it, Trapper, it's so unfair! Henry should be home with his family now. His kids shouldn't have to grow up without their father. It isn't right. It just isn't right," Hawkeye said shakily, his voice cracking as he broke down completely.

"No, it's not right. Nothing about it is right," Trapper whispered as he wrapped his arms around his friend and embraced him tightly.

The two men stayed like that for a long time, kneeling behind the bar in the officer's club as Hawkeye wept openly against Trapper's chest. When he finally quieted, Hawkeye allowed Trapper to help him to his feet and they walked back to the Swamp together.

As the sun rose slowly over the slumbering compound, it brought with it the hope that the personnel at the 4O77th would be okay, even if it didn't seem that way. They would lean on each other and one day at a time they would succeed in moving on after Henry Blake's death. But one thing was for certain, they had a long way to go.


End file.
